This morning, I did something I don’t plan on doing for the rest of the week. I set my alarm for, and woke up at, 7am.
Confession: The alarm went off at 7…I turned it off and went back to sleep. But God’s pretty cool in that He woke me up at 7:40… enough time to throw some clothes on and get there.
I wanted to be at church this morning. I didn’t make it mandatory, although the hubs, Thing 1 and my sister-in-law went with.
But I wanted to be at church.
I know most people chose vacation as a reason not to go, but for me, I saw it as an opportunity to go.. since back home, I’m in the nursery every Sunday. I wanted to worship. I wanted the experience.
And then? I found a service on a pier.
And it was a mile from the house.
I did have grand visions of walking there and back. But then?
I’m on vacation! And I didn’t feel like it… so I didn’t.
The service was wonderful. Three songs, all of which were some of my favorites. In fact, I made a comment that it was like I loaded up God’s jukebox and there we went.
Then the sermon. A sermon that talked of peace. A peace you can only have when you have God and allow Him to be in control. And then another song.
The offering was a beach pail… not passed, just sitting on the table. The Pastor had on a hawaiian shirt and sandals. The gals on the praise team donned sunglasses.
All things that, had I not been able to see the waves crashing behind them, would lead me to believe they were on a beach.
But to look out and see the ocean that He created, right there in front of me, as we sang of how awesome He was and is and will be, it was more than I could stand.
I often say, “in my next life, I want to be a large black woman that can belt it! You know, and go on tour!”
I’m speaking of Mandisa. I love her. (Although, she’s not large anymore… but when I sing her songs, oh how I want to be her!
Did you know that I met her? (Of course you didn’t. That would require me to blog about my life and… oh yeah! I don’t do that like I should…working on it!)
but yeah. I met her. When she was in Roanoke at the Girls Night Live concert. I worked her merchandise table and had the best time… met some awesome friends, too.
Back to my point. (I have one.)
Worship, to me, is a concert. When I’m singing at church… or in my car with my hand praising through the sunroof…I’m performing.
I don’t know what’s happening around me. I’m not looking for words, or to see who’s doing what, and quite honestly, a war could break out next to me, and I wouldn’t notice.
Sometimes, I know that He hears me. I know that He recognizes how in tune I am with Him. I know, because I’m anointed and my voice changes. And then?
I’m really performing. I’m signing as loud as I can, not caring who hears, whether I sound great or not.
And I smile.
I don’t want to sing in a choir.
I don’t want to be on the praise team.
I just want to perform…. a concert for One.